


Slaughter is the Best Medicine

by ellerkay



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-23
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nolanverse Joker/Scarecrow team-up I would have liked to see: a relationship built on sex, sass, and intimidation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I think that my characterization of the good Dr. Crane (or at least, anything good in it) owes much to [](http://mercuriazs.livejournal.com/profile)[**mercuriazs**](http://mercuriazs.livejournal.com/)'s excellent fiction about him. Particularly notable is the character study _[je te plumerai](http://mercuriazs.livejournal.com/125589.html)_ and the Scarecrow/Joker fic series (tragically unfinished) which starts with [You Had Me At Hello](http://mercuriazs.livejournal.com/124044.html). I can't recommend them highly enough.
> 
> Additionally, I should warn any potential readers that this is unfinished and ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, for which I apologize. I started this many years ago and while I love the idea of finishing it one day, it may never happen. I hope there's enough to enjoy for anyone who cares to give it a shot anyway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan's first session with the Joker doesn't go quite as he planned, but then, nothing involving the Joker ever does.

“So tell me, _doctor_.” The Joker was sprawled on the couch opposite Jonathan Crane’s upright chair. Even without his makeup, even in drab hospital-issued clothing, he seemed to exude a sort of dormant menace. Perhaps dormant wasn’t the right word, Jonathan reflected. The threat the Joker posed, while not exactly imminent, seemed like it could spring out at any moment, probably when you least expected it.

The Joker looked him up and down slowly, eyes alive with interest. “How does one go from running Arkham Asylum, performing inhumane experiments on its inmates and flooding the Narrows with _tox_ ic chemicals, to running from the law, to returning to Arkham, this time as a patient…to working here again?” The Joker’s eyes held Jonathan’s, and Jonathan didn’t blink. The last thing he needed to do was appear to react to him. The Joker leaned forward again and looked him up and down again, even more slowly, as if he was devouring him with his eyes.

“You’re _very_ pretty, doctor. Such lovely, full, _pouting_ lips. I bet they’d look good wrapped around the cock of whichever one of them was fool enough to release you with a clean bill of mental health.” His eyes lingered on Jonathan’s lips. “I bet they’d look good wrapped around _anyone’s_ cock.”

“Would you like to hear how I got rehired here, or would you prefer to continue indulging in obscenities?” Jonathan asked drily.

“Mmm…both.” The Joker settled himself back again with an expectant look.

Jonathan smiled thinly. “I simply explained to Dr. Quinzel that my madness was a result of the dose of my toxin that I received at the Batman’s hands.”

“Mmm… _Batman_.” The Joker turned his name almost into a moan. Jonathan waited for a moment, but he didn’t go on. Jonathan made a mental note of this and continued.

“My unfortunate choice to align myself with Ra’s Al Ghul was partly a result of the smaller doses of the chemical I used to take; I tested it on myself as well, you see. And partly it was my own ambition and greed. I’ve since repented.” There was the slightest hint of a smile on Jonathan’s face. It wasn’t audible in his voice, but he saw the Joker’s eyes sparkle at the sight. Good; if he thought they were alike, he might have a better chance of getting inside his head. “I was released from Arkham almost a year ago, you know. Dr. Quinzel was kind enough to give me another chance here.”

“Mm-hmm,” the Joker drawled. “Lucky you. And your…ex _per_ iments?”

“Long over, of course,” Jonathan replied. “I’m under strict surveillance when I’m on the premises. Our sessions, as you know, are being recorded, as are all my sessions with patients. That's standard practice at Arkham now, of course, for everyone.” His lips twitched slightly. “My fault, I’m afraid. But I imagine that my recordings are scrutinized particularly carefully.”

“And that lovely drug of yours?”

“My remaining samples were destroyed when I was committed to Arkham. The police search my apartment every couple of weeks to ensure I’m not making any more of it.”

“I think they ought to be searching more carefully.” The Joker smirked at him. “Don’t you, doctor?”

“I can assure you that’s entirely unnecessary, but if you'd like to communicate your concerns to them, I’m sure they’d be more than happy to give them careful consideration.”

The Joker giggled shrilly. “Oh, no. I’m much more concerned with the idea that you might _not_ have any more of it. I’d hate to lose such a beautiful potential… _relationship_.”

“I see,” Jonathan said, noncommittally. The Joker peered at him keenly for a long moment.

“You miss it, though, don’t you, doctor?” he said finally. “All those criminals and _crazy_ people under your charge…and you could do anything you wanted to them.” Jonathan looked back at him calmly, refusing to be drawn in. “Don’t you wish, for instance, that you could try that wonderful little compound on… _me_?”

Jonathan thought he felt his eyelid twitch slightly, but if it did, the Joker didn’t give any sign that he’d noticed. “What do you think you’d see?” he asked.

The Joker grinned. “I think I’d see myself. With a pretty little wife, and several fat children, and I’d work a white-collar job and drink on Friday nights with the boys – but I wouldn’t ever get drunk, or violent, only a little tipsy, and when I got home, me and the missus would do it missionary style and then fall asleep.”

“You fear normality?”

“I fear… _boredom_ ,” the Joker replied, mouth still twisted into a grin that was more like a grimace. “I mean…can you think of anything worse?”

“A few things.” Jonathan gave another clipped smile. “But I take your point. And that’s why you like the Batman so much?”

The Joker moaned again at the mention of his name, and Jonathan resisted the urge to shift in his seat, aware that he was half-hard under his neat suit. When he’d heard that he was to be the Joker’s analyst, he had, secretly, wished very much that he could still administer his compound to his patients. It was fascinating to imagine what might happen to the Joker under its influence. He’d wondered if it would even had an impact.

While the idea hadn’t exactly been erotic at the time, it had occupied his mind thoroughly in the week he prepared to start sessions with the Joker. The suggestion of it from the man himself had been arousing, and Jonathan supposed he shouldn’t be terribly surprised by that. The Joker had a sort of terrifying charisma, twisted but extraordinarily strong. If he’d chosen politics instead of crime, he probably would have been President at thirty-five.

Jonathan wasn’t unduly worried by his erection. He’d identified and obsessed with patients before. Patients did it to their therapists as well. The important thing was to never reveal it, and to never let it control one’s actions.

“The Batman, oh, yes,” the Joker was saying. “Tell me, doctor, about your little run-in with him.”

“Run-ins,” Jonathan corrected him automatically, then chastised himself internally. He shouldn’t be giving the Joker any more information than was absolutely necessary, especially considering that any information at all was dangerous in his hands.

The Joker looked surprised and delighted. “How many?” he demanded. “Tell me everything about them.”

“We’re not here to discuss me,” Jonathan said firmly, knowing perfectly well that wasn’t going to work at all.

The Joker laughed. “Well, _doctor_ ,” he said, the emphasis on Jonathan’s title reeking of sarcasm. “As long as we’re not going to pretend that we’re here to cure me.”

“Think what you like,” Jonathan replied indifferently, and was pleased to see that the tone seemed to needle the Joker ever so slightly. In the blink of an eyelid, however, he’d regained his self-possession, and he straightened up and leaned towards Jonathan again.

“If you won’t tell me about all of your dates with the Batman, then just tell me about the one with the fear drug,” he said. “What did _you_ see?”

“He was a terrifying figure,” Jonathan began. It was almost a recitation, he’d told the story to Arkham’s finest so many times. The Joker waved his hands, cutting him off.

“No no no no,” he said. “Tell me what you’re _afraid_ of.”

Jonathan tried to brush him off again. “I have a number of fears, none of which will be very interesting to you,” he started. “They’re quite typical – ”

 

The Joker’s face was a parody of disappointment as he shook his head sadly. “Would you like to know what I think?” he asked.

“I would be delighted,” Jonathan replied, utterly deadpan, and the Joker giggled and leaned in still further.

“I think that you are terrified of losing control, even for an instant.”

Jonathan breathed in and out slowly. In the back of his mind he could sense that strange feeling, the feeling that had taken him over when the Batman dosed him, and periodically since then. It was a feeling like something was not quite right, or perhaps that everything was entirely wrong.

The Joker was watching him closely. Lies, Jonathan knew, were useless with him, and in order to get anything from him, he was probably going to have to give quite a lot.

“You’re correct,” he said, without a trace of emotion. The strange feeling was subsiding, and internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t overwhelmed him. He had retained himself.

“Are you all right, doctor?” the Joker asked, with a façade of concern. “You were looking a little… _off_ for a moment there. And you know what they say – madness takes its _toll_.”

Jonathan glanced at the clock, without entirely meaning to. He didn’t let the relief show on his face as he said, “On that note, our time is up.”

The Joker groaned. “Just when things were starting to get interesting,” he said, rising. “See you next week, doctor.”

“Our next session is in three days,” Jonathan reminded him. The Joker grinned widely.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, without sounding the slightest bit surprised. “Thanks, doctor. You sure are easy to talk to. And _interesting_. I feel better already."

***

A few minutes later, Jonathan came silently in one of the stalls of the men's room. He had a private office, but he couldn't be sure he wasn't under surveillance there. It was a somewhat distasteful deed, the smell of sick and antiseptic stinging his nose, but a few tugs gave him the relief he required. When he had washed his hands, Jonathan looked into the mirror for the moment and resolved not to think about the Joker any more than he had to in order to prepare for his next session. Best to avoid this little fantasy turning into anything more serious.

***

Two days later, the Joker broke out of Arkham. Jonathan arrived to find the place in an uproar, mostly because there was nothing actually broken. He seemed to have disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace behind. Convinced that no one could break out of Arkham’s maximum security wing, at least without leaving some sign, an exhaustive search of the whole hospital had been undertaken under the assumption that the Joker was still there, hidden somewhere. But apparently he was really gone.

Jonathan’s office was locked as usual, but somehow he was unsurprised to find a note on his desk, scrawled so deeply in black ink one would think the writer was angry with the paper. No, Jonathan decided, that wasn’t it at all. The emotion here was triumph.

 _Doctor,_ it read. _Can’t wait for our next session._ It was unsigned, but then, Jonathan reflected, why on earth would he have bothered to sign it?

For a moment he debated bringing the note to the police. They would probably provide him with some sort of protection, though they would hate to do it. The strange feeling lingered in the back of Jonathan’s mind as he folded up the piece of paper and put it into his briefcase. He could always choose to call them later.

 _But_ , whispered the thing in his mind, _you won’t._ And Jonathan knew it was telling the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker shows up at Jonathan’s apartment with a proposition.

It was Sunday, late in the morning, and while Jonathan preferred to spend his weekends reading new publications on psychology and psychopharmacology, occasionally he ran out of food. This usually seemed to happen when he had spent twelve straight hours reading, realized he hadn’t eaten all day, and went to his refrigerator to find nothing but an old bottle of ketchup.  
  
That had occurred Saturday night, and so Jonathan had ordered lo mein from a late-night Chinese food place and went shopping in the morning. He returned to his apartment with a couple bags of groceries and when he unlocked the door and entered, he instantly knew something was wrong.  
  
The curtains were all shut tight, casting the apartment into a semi-dark gloom. Jonathan slowly put down the bags of groceries, put his keys on the table next to the door, and started to reach for the light switch.  
  
“Morning, doctor,” came a nasal voice from the shadows, and the hall light flipped on, revealing the Joker, back in his makeup and usual sort of clothing. His menace, Jonathan decided, no longer appeared dormant.  
  
The door was still open behind him, and Jonathan must have twitched unconsciously towards it because the Joker suddenly sprang forward, arm extended, to slam it closed. He kept moving, his other arm against Jonathan’s upper chest, forcing him back against the door. A knife appeared from who knows where and he pressed the flat of it against Jonathan’s neck, almost enough that the blade cut into his skin, but not quite.  
  
Jonathan’s breathing was shallow and he knew his eyes were wider than they should be, but he forced calm into his voice. “Hello, Joker,” he said. “You know, I don’t normally see clients on Sundays.”  
  
“Just the one-time exception then,” the Joker replied. Jonathan was aware of the Joker’s body pressed against his, and he hoped rather desperately that he wouldn’t get an erection. He’d been thinking about the Joker a little too much, despite his resolution.  
  
“We’ve missed you at Arkham,” Jonathan said drily, trying to talk carefully around the knife. “Everyone’s been wondering how you managed your mysterious escape.”  
  
The Joker smirked. “If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret, hmm?” he replied. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, isn’t it?”  
  
“Of course,” Jonathan replied. The Joker leaned in even closer, making the knife shift slightly, and Jonathan was relieved despite the danger that most of his own attention was now focused on the placement of the knife, instead of the Joker’s body against him.  
  
“That _cute_ Dr. Quinzel helped,” came the whisper, harsh and hot in his ear. The Joker pulled back again. “She’s a _naughty_ thing, isn’t she? Between hiring you back…and helping me out…I’m starting to think she has a… _thing_ for villains, what about you?”  
  
“Identification with patients is a common occurrence during analysis,” Jonathan agreed. He was almost about to launch into a long explanation of the phenomenon, but the Joker must have sensed it, because he slid the flat of the knife slowly across Jonathan’s throat, effectively shutting him up.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, doctor,” he said, letting the blade come to rest on the other side of Jonathan’s neck. “Most doctors don’t do housecalls these days, so I thought I’d make it easy and come to _you_.”  
  
“Somehow I don’t think you’re looking to continue our sessions,” Jonathan replied. The Joker laughed and abruptly stood back. Jonathan’s knees felt slightly weak and he wasn’t sure if it was more from fear or repressed desire.  
  
“That’s where you’re wrong, doctor,” the Joker said. “I do want to continue, with perhaps a slight change of _format_.”  
  
“Meaning?” Jonathan straightened his back and then his clothes, looking the Joker in the face. It was easier not to betray the fear now; it even seemed like maybe the Joker wasn’t here to kill him. _Though,_ he reminded himself, _it’s impossible to predict him, so don’t even try, because you’ll be wrong and that’ll just make things worse_.  
  
“Meaning, I have a _proposition_ for you.”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“I want to make your dreams come true.” The Joker was staring into his eyes, and Jonathan stared back without blinking. “I’m going to let you try that little _compound_ on me.”  
  
Well, he was hard now, and no use pretending otherwise. Jonathan reached into his breast pocket and took out a cloth, removed his glasses, and wiped them thoroughly. When he was finished he replaced both and looked at the Joker again.  
  
“What are you asking in return?”  
  
The Joker giggled. “Oh, you’re a _canny_ one, aren’t you? Everything has a price these days.”  
  
“What’s yours?”  
  
“How do you know I don’t just want to be nice to my favorite doctor?” Jonathan raised his eyebrows without replying and the Joker grinned. “What about we just say you owe me a _favor_?”  
  
“Without having any idea what that might be? I don’t think so.”  
  
“What if I promise it’ll be something you _want_ to do? It only seems fair; I want to try this drug almost as much as _you_ want to give it to me. I’ll just have to come up with something in return that I want a little more than you do.”  
  
It was sheer folly to agree to this; Jonathan knew that perfectly well. But…he was almost aching with the desire to dose the Joker with his compound. And more than that, he had the feeling the Joker was telling the truth that whatever he asked in return would be something he wanted, too. The Joker seemed to keep his word, in a twisted way. Jonathan thought that, more than likely, what would be terrible would be seeing what he was capable of wanting. But…“What makes you think I even have any more?” he asked.  
  
“Because,” the Joker replied, and Jonathan found himself suddenly pinned to the door again, knife at his throat. _Déjà vu just isn’t what it used to be,_ said the strange little voice in his mind. “If you don’t have any, I’m going to kill you. And I don’t want to kill you. You’re too _pretty_ to die.”  
  
Jonathan tried to formulate a response but in quick succession he saw the Joker frown, a light of understanding dawn, and a triumphant smile spread wider than usual over his face.  
  
“Oh, _doctor_ ,” he said. “I had no idea you _felt_ that way.” He shifted his leg so that it was pressing more firmly against Jonathan’s erection, and Jonathan tried to force down a moan. He was successful, but less so at suppressing the small gasp that rose to his lips when he realized the Joker was grinding his own erection into his hip.  
  
“Now I _really_ hope you’ve got that drug,” the Joker said.  
  
“I do,” Jonathan replied, voice calm despite the fear and arousal coursing through him. To his silent disappointment, the Joker stepped back.  
  
“Get it,” he said, gesturing with the knife.  
  
Jonathan walked swiftly to his bedroom and pushed the bed a few feet to the side. He pried up a loose floorboard and looked lovingly into the space underneath. There were five vials of a clear liquid, the dispenser that turned it into a spray, and his mask. He pulled the mask out first and held it for a second, noticing with some faraway part of his mind that his hands were shaking slightly with excitement. They had taken his mask when he’d been arrested, of course, but he’d made a new one as soon as he was able. It was easy enough, and though he hadn’t had an opportunity to wear it, it made him feel better just to know it was there.  
  
He pulled out the dispenser and one of the vials and loaded it smoothly, the movements familiar and oddly soothing. He switched on the gas mask and pulled the hood over his head. For a moment he listened to the harsh sound of his own breathing. It had been so long since he’d gotten to do this, and even with the strange feeling niggling in the back of his mind, he felt somehow more himself than he had in ages.  
  
“I’m getting impatient, doctor,” called the Joker from the other room. Jonathan rose and went to the living room, where the Joker was sprawled out on the couch. Even in the semidarkness, Jonathan could see the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.  
  
“ _There_ you are,” he said, looking him up and down. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”  
  
“If you want the full effects, I suggest you breathe in deeply,” Jonathan said, raised his arm, and sprayed the Joker in the face. The Joker breathed so deep and fast it almost sounded like a gasp and began laughing hysterically, writhing on the couch. Jonathan crouched down beside him, watching carefully.  
  
“How do you feel?” he asked, and the Joker only laughed harder. Jonathan noticed that the Joker’s erection didn’t seem to have subsided in the least.  
  
“Oh, _doctor_ ,” the Joker giggled, and grabbed his arm and stared at him, eyes wide. “They ought to distribute this in the schools.”  
  
“What do you see?”  
  
“ _Bats_ ,” the Joker moaned. His eyes were rolling in their sockets now and he was snatching in air, grasping for nothing. “Why won’t they _come_ to me?”  
  
Jonathan watched in fascination, and then suddenly the Joker launched himself off the couch, knocking Jonathan to the floor and somehow pulling off his mask and pinning him down in one lightning-fast move. Jonathan couldn’t help but give a little moan at the sudden friction on his cock. The Joker thrust once against him and moaned himself. He was shaking and breathing hard, but his fingers felt like steel around Jonathan’s wrists. He put his mouth down close to Jonathan’s ear.  
  
“I have to ask you a _favor_ ,” the Joker said, voice low. He pressed his lips to Jonathan’s neck and stuck out his tongue like he was tasting his skin, then bit down hard, making Jonathan yelp.  
  
“I keep thinking about those pretty _lips_ of yours,” the Joker continued, and then his lips were at Jonathan’s. He kissed him hard, and Jonathan found himself kissing back, tasting the red makeup, hips rising to thrust against the Joker’s leg. When the Joker sucked his bottom lip into his mouth Jonathan moaned again, the strange feeling rising suddenly like a wave in his mind, threatening to overtake him. The Joker bit down so hard Jonathan wondered if he was bleeding, but the pain cleared his mind.  
  
“And I really think – ” Was he still _talking_? “I really think those lips should be put to good use.” The Joker rolled off him suddenly and Jonathan was left panting on the floor as the Joker settled himself on the couch again, sitting this time, leaning back with his hips jutted out, his erection straining against his brightly colored pants. Jonathan raised himself slowly onto his elbows, conscious of how debauched he must look already; hair mussed, lips swollen, face smeared with red and white. He looked at the Joker, who was still shaking but grinning uncontrollably as well.  
  
 _Of course_ , Jonathan thought suddenly. _Fear is an aphrodisiac to him. That explains his obsession with the Batman, or part of it, at least._ It seemed so obvious now, Jonathan was briefly angry with himself for failing to see it sooner.  
  
“If you do it well enough…” The Joker smacked his lips. “I might just return the favor.”  
  
The image hit Jonathan like a punch, and his cock _throbbed_. Feeling slightly dazed, he got to his knees without a word and moved between the Joker’s parted legs. He undid the Joker’s pants and pulled his cock free, looking at it for a moment almost with clinical detachment, running his fingers up and down the shaft and swiping his thumb across the head, eliciting a moan from the Joker. It seemed ordinary; perhaps on the larger side of average, medium thickness, circumcised. Jonathan felt faintly surprised that anything about the Joker could be ordinary.  
  
He bent his head and licked slowly up the underside, swirling his tongue around the head. The Joker groaned and Jonathan felt his fingers slither into his hair and grip tightly, to the point of pain. He was pushing down and Jonathan, unsure of where the knife had gone, thought it was best to take the suggestion and let his lips slide down the length of him, taking it as slowly as he could with the pressure on his head.  
  
When he bumped the back of his throat and Jonathan gagged the pressure eased up a little, and Jonathan was able to wrap his hand around the base of the Joker’s cock.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” the Joker gasped, as Jonathan started to slide his hand and mouth up and down in time. For once, the Joker didn’t sound like he was laughing behind his voice, and the thought of the Joker ever so slightly not in command made Jonathan moan without entirely meaning to. The Joker grunted and his hand tightened in Jonathan’s hair again.  
  
“Look at me… _look at me_ ,” the Joker growled, and with some difficulty Jonathan turned his neck so he could look into the Joker’s black eyes.  
  
“Just as good as I thought,” the Joker said, and he started to thrust a little, pressing Jonathan to go faster. Jonathan did his best to follow the rhythm and relax his throat, and within a couple of minutes the Joker was groaning continuously. He came without warning, his hand on Jonathan’s head straining his neck with its force. Most of his release went down Jonathan’s throat past his tongue, but he tasted the last spurt. It was salty and bitter, and there was something in it that almost reminded him of the taste of the makeup. Jonathan wondered if he could have swallowed so much of it that it was now part of his bloodstream.  
  
Jonathan got up slowly. The Joker was sitting back, eyes closed.  
  
“Do you still feel the effects of the compound?” Jonathan asked, and the Joker’s eyes snapped open. He hastily did up his pants, then jumped to his feet and shoved Jonathan down to where he’d been sitting, fumbling with the opening of Jonathan’s pants now. His hands, Jonathan noted, were still shaking.  
  
“It could benefit my research if you told me – aahh,” Jonathan gasped, as the Joker took him into his mouth all at once, down his throat. He hadn’t even gagged, and his hands were active, stroking Jonathan’s legs and tracing his stomach. Jonathan leaned back and shut his eyes. The suction was impressive, almost too much. As the Joker slid him slowly out of his mouth Jonathan felt his teeth dance ever so lightly on his skin and the sensation made him twist automatically, half from the pleasure and half out of fear that he was going to bite a lot harder than that. But he didn’t, and his hands were on Jonathan’s hips now, squeezing so hard Jonathan wondered if he’d have bruises later.  
  
The Joker took Jonathan’s cock into his mouth again, tongue writhing along the underside till Jonathan’s vision blurred. He wanted desperately to bury his fingers in the Joker’s hair and fuck his mouth, but he wasn’t sure that a display of dominance like that would be taken well, and squeezed his nails into his palms instead. He quickly found it was unnecessary anyway; the Joker was bobbing his head fast now and even though he was holding his hips too tightly for Jonathan to be able to thrust, he felt his orgasm building swiftly, the lack of control maddening and unbelievably exciting until he came with a strangled groan into the Joker’s mouth.  
  
The Joker looked up and held Jonathan’s eyes, swallowing audibly. He grinned.  
  
“Good session, doctor,” he said. He got to his feet and gave Jonathan an obscene kiss, more tongue than lips, and then he turned and left the room. Jonathan heard his apartment door open and then slam shut.  
  
He sat for a few minutes without moving, letting his breathing calm, his heart rate slow, feeling the aftershocks in his body. Slowly he got up and went to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes without folding them, for once just letting them fall onto the floor. He turned on the shower and got in.  
  
As the hot water coursed over his skin, Jonathan wondered what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.


	3. Slaughter is the Best Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker takes a considerably more active interest in Jonathan's life.

For over three weeks, Jonathan saw nothing of the Joker. More surprisingly, there was nothing about him on the news. He hadn't robbed or killed anyone, at least not on a large enough scale to attract attention. Jonathan suspected that if the Joker was killing, he'd make sure the media knew about it.

Then again, if he was killing and he didn't want anyone to find out, they probably wouldn't. It was possible he'd been quietly busy, difficult as it was to imagine him doing anything low-profile.

Occasionally, on slow news days, the anchors would remind everyone that the Joker was still at large and should be presumed armed and dangerous. He was not to be approached for any reason. Jonathan had to wonder who would be stupid enough to approach the Joker, for any reason. Besides the Batman, of course.

The police, apparently, had no leads as to his whereabouts. They probably would have been interested in Jonathan's information, once they got over glaring at him and being deeply suspicious of his motives in handing it over. But Jonathan had never called them.

Given the Joker's long silence, it shouldn't have been such a surprise when Jonathan came home from work one day to find all his possessions were gone.

***

He entered the dark apartment and put his keys down on the table next to the door. They fell to the floor as soon as they realized that there wasn't a table to support them, and when Jonathan frowned and flicked on the hall light he could sense the emptiness of the rooms, even those he couldn't see. He walked slowly through the apartment. The air was a little chilly, as if no one had been living there for some time.

He had almost circled back to the front door when a thought struck him and he ran down the hall to his bedroom, heart pounding. It took him a second to find the board he was looking for, without the furniture marking the spot, but after a moment he located it and pried it up slightly frantically.

The space underneath was...space. His mask and the vials of his toxin were gone.

Jonathan stared into it for a moment, fighting a rising feeling of panic. With a distant part of his mind he wondered why he felt so lost without the mask, and filed away the thought for further consideration.

"Missing something, doctor?" The voice came from just behind him and Jonathan started, jumping to his feet and whirling to face the Joker. The Joker was grinning at him, dressed in his usual, holding a dilapidated briefcase. Jonathan took a subtle breath and willed himself calm. The worst thing to do was appear to be upset by him. It was bad enough he'd jumped at the sound of his voice.

"It would appear that I am," he answered. "Did you do this?"

"Of course."

"Why did you find it necessary to steal my things?"

The Joker affected an expression of great hurt. "I didn't steal your things," he said. "Would I do that to my _lover_?" He paused, clearly hoping for a reaction, but Jonathan stared back expressionlessly. The Joker shook his head. "No, no, no. I've provided you a _service_. Free movers!"

"I wasn't aware I was moving anywhere."

"Oh, well. I thought it would be more fun as a surprise."

"It certainly is surprising. Where am I moving, then? And why?"

Now the Joker looked surprised, as if it should be obvious. "You're moving in with me."

"Ah." He'd been afraid of that. The Joker leered at him.

"I decided that your talents are being wasted in that asylum, shut in all day with the crazy people.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation, considering I’m a psychiatrist. I can’t really imagine where I could be of use, if you don’t think an asylum is appropriate.”

The Joker shook his head impatiently. “Psychiatry is your _job_.” He licked his lips. “Those lovely chemicals are your _calling_.” He pressed his hand to Jonathan’s chest and smirked. “Besides, you’re too _skinny_. And pale.” Jonathan found the assessment rather amusing, considering the source. "You need fresh air, exercise. Your drugs shouldn’t be hidden away – they should be out in the world. And so should you. So, I've decided you're going to become my partner." He delivered this last sentence magnanimously, with the air of someone bestowing a great honor.

"Thank you," Jonathan said, so flatly it could have been interpreted as sarcastic. The Joker smirked.

"You're _welcome_ ," he said. "Come on, it's time to go. Oh, and you'll be wanting this." He shoved the briefcase into Jonathan's hands. Jonathan looked at it. "Go on, open it."

Jonathan knelt down, placed the briefcase on the floor, and opened it. Inside was his mask, the dispenser, and two canisters of his compound.

"I know how you hate to be without it." Jonathan looked up, and the Joker was grinning down at him. "Put it on."

***

They had walked a few blocks away from Jonathan’s apartment - _former apartment_ , he corrected himself. The Joker was uncharacteristically silent. With his mask on, Jonathan knew he stuck out terribly. Yet he felt confident, not uncomfortable.

His feeling of confidence took a sharp nose dive when the Joker’s hand closed suddenly around his wrist and he pulled him down an alley.

“Did you see police - ?” Jonathan started to ask as the Joker pulled off his mask and pushed him roughly against a brick wall. He kissed him hard. Jonathan gave a small moan but pulled his head back when the Joker pressed his hand against his crotch.

“I think a celebration is in order,” the Joker hissed into his ear. “To our new partnership.”

“Not here,” Jonathan said, but the Joker was rubbing his cock through his pants and he was getting hard despite his trepidation.

“Not for nothing, doctor, but you owe me a _favor_.” The Joker licked Jonathan’s neck and thrust his erection into Jonathan’s thigh.

“I thought that favor was discharged the last time you visited me.” Jonathan was trying to look around the dark alley. From what he could see, it was deserted, but it was filthy.

“No, no,” the Joker said, running his hands over Jonathan’s body. “That was just part of our session.”

He had undone Jonathan’s belt now, and Jonathan groaned when he wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to…christen the new apartment, or wherever it is I’m living now?”

“Later.” The Joker was stroking him slowly, and Jonathan’s breath came a little faster.

“I thought it would be something I wanted, too,” he tried finally.

The Joker pulled back to look into his face and grinned. “Don’t you _dare_ pretend you don’t,” he said. Jonathan tried to think of a convincing argument, but the Joker gave his cock one final tug and pulled his hand out of his pants.

“Turn around,” he ordered. Jonathan froze for a moment, then turned slowly, heart pounding. Instinctively he put his hands against the brick wall in front of him and heard a small noise of approval from behind him. The Joker pulled down his pants and ran his hands over Jonathan’s ass. The night air was warm, but strange on his exposed skin. There was something slightly terrifying about this, but his erection hadn’t diminished at all.

He heard the Joker rummaging in his pockets and a moment later his cool, slippery finger was circling Jonathan’s ass. He pushed it slowly in, and after a moment added another. Jonathan groaned, head down. The strange feeling was there in the back of his mind, but it didn’t seem to be overwhelming him. It just meant he wasn’t protesting this; instead, he was abandoning himself to it, and enjoying it far more than he thought he really should be.

When he’d spent a few minutes working three fingers slowly in and out of Jonathan's ass, the Joker pulled them out altogether. Jonathan rested his forehead against the wall and panted, the sound of his own breath harsh in his ears. Under it he could hear more rustling, and then the Joker had grabbed his hip in one hand and was sliding his cock into him. Even slicked and prepared, it hurt a little, and Jonathan bit his lip. The pain was minor enough, though, to still be mostly enjoyable. When the Joker was all the way in he paused, leaning forward and biting Jonathan’s shoulder none-too-gently.

“Comfortable, doctor?” he asked.

“As much as can be expected,” Jonathan said, and the Joker laughed low and wrapped his hand around Jonathan’s cock again. Jonathan pressed his hands harder against the wall and closed his eyes, thrusting into the Joker’s still-slippery hand. The Joker’s hips jutted forward faster as the minutes ticked by and he gripped Jonathan’s hip tightly with his free hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Jonathan moaned loudly, forgetting their exposed position. The Joker growled in his ear and _squeezed_ him and Jonathan cried out, cum splattering on the wall in front of him. The Joker thrust wildly for another minute and came with a grunt and a shudder, leaning over onto Jonathan’s back and breathing hard into his ear.

Abruptly he pulled out, making Jonathan gasp. Jonathan pulled up his pants and belted them again slowly. His legs were a little shaky. The Joker grabbed him and kissed him, sliding his tongue into his mouth and biting at his bottom lip.

“I think,” he said, with a grin, “that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He giggled and started walking out of the alleyway. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your new home.”

In a few strides Jonathan had caught up with him. “You have a car with you?”

“Yeah, it’s parked right outside your apartment. Your _former_ apartment.”

Jonathan blinked. “Then why were we walking?”

The Joker raised his eyebrows. “To get to the _alley_ ,” he said, as if it were obvious.

***

The Joker drove just like he walked and talked; that is to say, like a complete maniac. He went at least thirty miles over the speed limit at all times, Jonathan noted, his eyes glued to the speedometer and his hand clutching the armrest between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. He didn’t say a word as the Joker ran red lights and weaved between cars. He tried counting the number of times they nearly slammed into another car and gave up at fifteen.

It was nerve-wracking, yet exhilarating. There was something about being with the Joker that made one feel immortal, Jonathan reflected. Nothing seemed to touch him, and it made you think nothing could touch you either, at least while you were with him. Still, Jonathan decided he shouldn’t discount the possibility of a passenger-side collision with one of the cars the Joker cut off.

Miraculously still alive half an hour later, they pulled up outside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. Jonathan’s heart sank at the sight of it. He’d lived in squalor before, out of necessity, but it had never been his preference. He’d rather liked the neat little apartment the Joker was forcing him to abandon. It hadn’t been very expensive, but it had been clean, and it had been his. After his time as a patient at Arkham, Jonathan had learned the true value of having one’s own space.

“Home sweet home,” the Joker said. Jonathan followed him with some trepidation towards the door which apparently led into the factory.

“Stand down, boys, daddy's home,” the Joker said to a couple of burly-looking men outside the door. They relaxed their grips on the semiautomatics they were holding and let them both through without a word.

Inside, the warehouse was mostly a large open space. There were a few doors in the back which, Jonathan assumed, led to other rooms. There were a few staircases up to a catwalk which ran around all the walls. There were more doors there, all closed. Probably they had once been managers' offices and the like, Jonathan thought.

The space on the floor was largely bare. There were some old, dingy couches arranged in a square around a coffetable which was stained with rings where glasses had stood and scarred from cigarettes. A couple henchman lounged on the couches. A few feet away stood a round table with a number of folding chairs. More henchmen were playing cards around it.

There was also a large desk made of stainless steel with four computers arranged on its surface. They were the only things in the place that looked new, and they looked very new indeed. Jonathan didn’t know much about computers, but he thought they were probably state-of-the-art technology.

“I hope none of you have _aces_ up your sleeves,” the Joker said. “Or worse.” The men looked up. Many of them had fear in their eyes, and several of them looked more fearful at the sight of Jonathan. He smiled thinly at them. They were former patients.

“This is Scarecrow,” the Joker said. “I want you all to show him the respect you’d show me. Well, maybe not _quite_ as much.” He looked around and smirked. “I think some of you are acquainted already, aren’t you? Show of hands, how many have been involved in the good doctor’s experiments?”

Three hands went up. One of the men looked like he was ready to bolt for the door, and only fear of the Joker was keeping him in his seat. Jonathan remembered him. Malcolm Landon, a schizophrenic with violent tendencies. He’d thought the fear drug had sublimated the violence permanently, but if anyone could bring it out again, he was sure it was the Joker. Besides, people’s personalities never really changed. Malcolm would always be attracted to violence.

“Play your _cards_ right,” the Joker said with a snigger, “and maybe you’ll get to be in some more.” Malcolm actually stood up at that, but the Joker shot him a look and he sunk back down again slowly.

“Let’s go,” the Joker said. He walked to one of the staircases that led to the catwalk and bounded up it. Jonathan followed more slowly. A few doors from the top of the stairs, the Joker turned and dangled a key in front of Jonathan’s nose. It hung from a keychain with a little jester figure attached, clothed in purple and green.

“ _Take_ it,” the Joker said. Jonathan obeyed, and the Joker gestured to the door in front of them.

“What is this?” Jonathan asked. The Joker only giggled, and Jonathan turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The Joker reached around him, and Jonathan saw – his apartment. More or less. There was no front hallway; the door opened directly onto the living room. Of course it was a different shape than his old apartment, but the furniture was arranged in almost the same way. On the left wall was a door which opened onto his bedroom, which had a small but clean bathroom off of it. Everything was clean and modern, and finished, unlike the rest of the building.

“You haven’t seen the best part, doctor,” the Joker called from the living room. Jonathan walked back in and saw that there was another door, on the right wall of the room. The Joker opened it and motioned him through.

One side looked like a normal study – it had his desk and the bookshelves that held his psychology and psychopharmacology books. The other side could have been a mad scientist’s lab. There were beakers and burners and a cabinet full of nasty-looking chemicals and other ingredients. Nothing was happening with them at the moment, of course, but Jonathan could imagine test tubes bubbling and he looked around half-expecting to see a Tesla coil waiting to be turned on. He smiled.

“What did you mean downstairs, when you said some of your men might be able to take part in my experiments?” he asked, without turning around.

“Oh, well, I have some ideas for your new compound.”

“My new compound.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan could hear the grin in his voice.

“And what would that be?”

The Joker walked up close behind him, leaning to whisper in his ear. “I’ll tell you in the morning,” he muttered. Jonathan shivered, and the Joker withdrew, walking towards the door.

“Doctor,” he said, before he went through. Jonathan turned to face him, and he smirked.

“Just a tip - nothing says 'thank you' like _head_ ,” he said, and left the apartment.


	4. Slaughter is the Best Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new compound makes its debut.

Jonathan awoke to a wet heat enveloping his cock. He gave a small moan and stirred, blinking at the light. There was a tangle of green-blonde hair between his legs. The Joker took Jonathan’s cock slowly into his mouth and Jonathan groaned. The Joker ran his tongue along the underside and raised his head.

“Good morning,” he said. “I thought this might be a good way to welcome you to our little operation.”

“Good morning,” Jonathan replied. The Joker had somehow pulled his pajama pants down enough to expose his cock without waking him. Jonathan was surprised; he’d always considered himself a light sleeper. Still, he couldn’t exactly complain. The Joker wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked it slowly. Jonathan’s hips rose and he let his head fall back against the pillows.

“You know,” the Joker said conversationally. “You look _beautiful_ when you sleep. Like an angel. And so _innocent_.”

“And you like that, do you?” Jonathan asked, panting slightly. The Joker grinned and leaned forward to swirl his tongue around the head of Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan gasped softly.

“You know, I kind of do,” the Joker said thoughtfully, as if it were a notion that had never occurred to him before. “Not that I don’t like them a bit depraved, too. And you certainly fit the bill. Letting strange men fuck you in alleys, and things like that.”

Jonathan thought that when he said “strange,” he probably didn’t mean “a stranger.” They seemed to be getting better and better acquainted, after all. His lips parted as the Joker licked his cock from root to tip.

“After I finish _welcoming_ you, I think I should get that thank you you promised me last night,” the Joker said.

“I don’t remember promising you anything,” Jonathan said, wondering if it wasn’t a very bad idea to argue with the Joker over something he didn’t really mind doing anyway.

“Oh, you did.” The Joker licked his lips. “I saw it in your _eyes_.” He started stroking Jonathan’s cock again, faster now.

“Perhaps I could write you a nice card instead,” Jonathan gasped out. What in the hell was wrong with him? The strange feeling was lurking again…

The Joker laughed and slid his hand up Jonathan’s chest, letting it come to rest lightly on his throat. He didn’t put any pressure, but the meaning was clear.

“I don’t think you will,” he said. “I think you value our _friendship_ far too much.” He took Jonathan’s cock down his throat again, and Jonathan moaned and thrust hard, reaching out and grabbing at the Joker’s shoulder. The hand at his throat didn’t go away, and as he thrust faster the Joker squeezed ever so slightly. Jonathan tried to pay attention to how much pressure he was using, but distracted as he was, he didn’t notice it was increasing until he was thrusting desperately and unable to breathe. Before he had time to panic he was cumming down the Joker’s throat. For a split second his vision clouded, but the pleasure was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced.

Then the hand was gone and Jonathan breathed in with a sharp gasp. His heart was racing, and he shuddered from the aftershocks of the orgasm. The Joker’s face appeared over his. He was grinning and licking his lips.

“My turn,” he said.

***

Jonathan made himself some toast and tea for breakfast. The kitchen, he found, was downstairs. It was a large industrial one which was shared by everyone in the building, which he didn’t mind too much, considering what he had thought living there would be like. He didn’t spend much time in the kitchen, anyway.

It seemed that not all the henchmen lived in the building, but many crashed on the couches or had turned one of the rooms into something for themselves. None of those were finished, as Jonathan’s was. He still wasn’t sure where the Joker slept. Perhaps he had claimed one of the other rooms for himself. Jonathan wondered if he slept at all.

He brought his breakfast back to his apartment, seating himself on his worn leather couch. He opened a book on multiple personalities he’d been enjoying and started reading, sipping his tea slowly. After a few bites his uneaten toast grew cold as he was drawn into the book. Eventually the last of the tea cooled as well, forgotten on the coffeetable.

“You know,” the Joker said, and Jonathan jumped, cursing the fact that he had startled him again. How could the Joker keep sneaking up on him with that shuffling walk of his?

“You really ought to eat,” the Joker said, flopping down on the couch and helping himself to a piece of toast. “You’re skin and bones. Gangly, like…” He scrutinized Jonathan thoughtfully. “ _Some_ thing. It’ll come to me, don’t worry.”

“Did you want something?” Jonathan asked resentfully, taking his second piece of toast before the Joker had time to steal that, too.

“Mm.” The Joker swallowed a mouthful of toast and took a sip of Jonathan’s tea before he had time to protest. He made a face. “This tea is cold. And coffee is better.”

“Then get your own,” Jonathan replied, irritated. He needed more caffeine. “What do you want?”

“Oho, _not_ so friendly.” The Joker handed Jonathan back his now-empty mug and leaned forward, leering at him. “You were much more _receptive_ this morning.” Jonathan stared back, stony-faced, and the Joker settled himself back against the other end of the couch.

“I thought we could have a talk about your new compound,” he said.

“Oh, yes. I’m so interested to discover what it is.” Joanthan's voice dripped with sarcasm, but the Joker beamed.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He licked his lips and grinned some more. “It’s going to be an aphrodisiac.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. “Why on earth do you need with an aphrodisiac?” he asked coolly. “You could barely contain yourself on the fear toxin. It might be more effective for you than a traditional aphrodisiac.”

The Joker was shaking his head. “It’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for?” Jonathan was fairly certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to see what he’d say.

The Joker grinned but shook his head again. “This little _scheme_ isn’t quite ready yet. I need your help.”

Jonathan regarded him for a long moment. “Why not just use a traditional aphrodisiac?” he asked finally. “There are dozens out there. Hundreds, perhaps.”

“Mm, I want it to have your special _touch_ , doctor.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, I just _like_ you.”

“How lucky for me,” Jonathan said drily. “As it happens, you’re in luck. I’ve considered making something like that before.”

“Oh,” the sound was half-moan. “I was so _hoping_ you’d say that, too.”

Jonathan smiled thinly. “I’ve thought about a number of different compounds. I couldn’t make anything under such close surveillance at Arkham and in my home, of course. But I have ideas, and a few notes. It will take time, I’m not sure how long.”

The Joker was beaming again. “And I didn’t even have to threaten to kill you this time,” he said affectionately. “I knew that inviting you here was the right thing to do.”

 _Inviting._ “How gratifying not to disappoint you.” The Joker rose and stretched.

“As soon as you have a list of ingredients, let me know. I’ll send some of the boys shopping. You shouldn’t go out just yet. They’ll probably be looking for you soon.”

***

Two days later, Jonathan had what he hoped was a workable list for the new compound. The next day the Joker proudly presented him with a few large bundles and he got to work. Jonathan was quickly absorbed in the process. He had always loved mixing chemicals, creating his own little works of art.

The first batch, done in about a week, was completely wrong; when he took it, Jonathan immediately threw up. _There isn’t much that’s less of an aphrodisiac than that,_ he thought, and after a day’s puzzling over his notes he asked the Joker for a few new ingredients, which were promptly delivered.

He was pretty sure he had it this time, and worked feverishly for the next few days, barely sleeping or eating. He made great progress, except when the Joker came to poke around.

“Not to interrupt your _process_ ,” he said once, grabbing Jonathan’s wrist, “but you’re no good to me if you starve yourself to death.” He dragged him downstairs to the kitchen and then watched as Jonathan grudgingly prepared and ate a meal.

And he made him go to bed a few times as well. “You know, those ingredients of yours are _expensive_ ,” he said once after Jonathan, half-asleep on his feet, spoiled five slightly different modulations of the compound by adding a chemical too early. The Joker dragged him to the bedroom this time, tied him to the bed, and fucked him. Jonathan was asleep nearly as soon as he came. He didn’t even remember being untied, but he woke up in the middle of the night from a dream about the compound to see the Joker actually asleep next to him. So he did sleep, occasionally anyway. When he woke up in the morning, though, the Joker was gone, and Jonathan wondered if his waking in the night had been a dream.

When he wasn’t being the world’s most disturbing mother hen, the Joker was a great nuisance in the lab. He pestered Jonathan with questions or fiddled around with sensitive instruments. One day he wandered in singing under his breath. Despite his best intentions, Jonathan found himself straining to catch the lyrics.

“I could _while_ away the hours/con _ver_ sing with the flowers/con _fer_ ring with the rain,” the Joker sang (extremely off-key), as he examined the rows of test tubes. “And my _head_ I’d be scratching/while my _thoughts_ were busy hatching/if I _o_ nly had a brain!”

Jonathan didn’t look up from his work, carefully measuring a tiny amount of liquid into the vial he was holding. “You know,” he said conversationally, “just because you paint your face to look vaguely like a clown doesn’t mean you’re funny.”

The Joker gave a high-pitched giggle and left the laboratory again. Jonathan kept working.

***

A week later, the Joker was laying on one of the couches in the warehouse, staring up. His arms were outstretched, wrists crossed, thumbs hooked together, fingers splayed. He moved his fingers together slowly in a flapping motion.

One of the dimmer henchmen (John) was staring at him in fascination. “Nice job, boss, it looks like a bird!” he said. The Joker turned his head towards him very slowly. John’s face lost its smile at his expression. “Uh…right?” he asked, confused.

“Sure,” the Joker said. “It’s a _bird_.”

Upstairs a door slammed open and Jonathan walked rapidly down the stairs. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes were bright. The Joker looked him up and down and grinned.

“ _Well_ ,” he said. “Don’t you just look good enough to _eat_.”

Jonathan pulled a corked test tube from his pocket and handed it to the Joker. Inside was a clear red liquid.

“What’s that?” John asked, deciding it was probably better not to assume this time.

“It’s…a little glass vial,” the Joker said.

“A little glass vial?”

“A little glass vial,” the Joker confirmed. He raised his eyebrows at Jonathan. “Well?”

“It’s finished,” Jonathan said triumphantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you get the reference at the end of the last scene, I love you.


End file.
